


Pamela

by SwellDame



Category: Crimson Peak (2015)
Genre: Character Turned Into a Ghost, Gen, Ghosts, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Bad At Titles, Murder, Please Don't Kill Me, Poisoning, Serial Killers, Victim - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 19:38:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10600839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwellDame/pseuds/SwellDame
Summary: This is about Pamela’s last moments before she succumbs to being the second ghost to haunt Allerdale Hall. I wanted to expand and possibly answer why Thomas was there for her death but afterwards, chose to never be home for the others. And I read somewhere, I don’t know if it was in the Art of Darkness, or in the novelization or maybe it might have been an interview with Guillermo that Pamela as strangled. Hence when you combine all of that, you get this.





	

Pamela made a violent cough into her handkerchief. Her whole body shook and her eyes squeezed out a few tears as a result of the painful fit that overtaken her. Her tired lungs burned and strained to take another breath. She was too afraid to release the handkerchief from her lips and see how much blood stained the white linen this time. The metallic taste was already overwhelming her taste buds. Only she wasn’t sure if it came from her cough or if she had burst one of the sores from the lining of her mouth. Talking, swallowing, and chewing were impossible to endure nowadays.

In this large bed, with no one there to comfort her, Pamela felt truly alone. Not even Thomas came to her bedside anymore. She hadn’t seen him for at least a week. The feeling sunk into her heart and it made her feel so small and defeated.

 _Coward._ She thought bitterly, but her heart insisted on still beating only for him, to still love him.  
_Thomas. Please Thomas._ She prayed. She didn’t have much longer now. She knew it.

The frail woman looked over at her discarded wheelchair next to her bed. At one time, she believed it had restricted her freedom once she lost the use of her legs as a young girl. How she would give anything to move out of this bed and sit in her wheelchair again. Her fingertips tingled at the memory of the polished wooden handles and the cold metal wheels.

She heard Lucille’s footsteps in the distance - light and determined. She was probably carrying a tray of tea, no doubt. Pamela had her suspicions something was in the bitter concoction she had been given since the day she arrived.

 _Heavenly Father, in my hour of need, I beg of you, help me!_ She silently prayed as she moved her arms to help herself sit up against the pillows. Her body revolted with every muscle spasm. She was so much more weaker than she thought. It was remarkable how Pamela found herself rolling towards the other side of the bed and scooted into the seat of her wheelchair. She felt exuberant - She could do this! She could leave this place! Wheeling herself out into the empty hallway, Pamela could hear Lucille and Thomas’ voices more clearly now.

“Lucille -”  
“Do not make me tell you again, Thomas. She signed the papers yesterday. She is of no use to us now.”  
_The papers?_ Pamela dimly thought. Her sick mind was growing foggy on day to day details. Then with stunning realization, everything clicked into place.  
_All they want is my money._ Her skin turned cold. Her heart began to beat faster. She could hear it pounding in her head - it was still strong and full of life. She must get out of here. She scanned the hallway searching for a place, any place to hide. Their voices were closer - somewhere on the staircase.

She’s dying. Isn’t that enough?” Thomas argued. “Let her be. It will be over soon.”  
Pamela wasted no time in wheeling her chair down the hallway, reaching out for the first door she could see. She tried the doorknob, it turned.  
“You little bitch.” She heard Lucille seethed. She turned and saw her sister-in-law’s tall, lithe figure stand at the other end of the hallway. Thomas behind her, hidden in the shadows.  
“Don’t…come…any…closer.” Pamela wheezed and coughed, blood splattering down her nightgown.  
“You heard us.” Lucille marched a few steps forward. Her voice was menacing and dark, as though she was reprimanding a child for ease-dropping.  
Thomas reached out from the darkness and took hold of his sister’s arm.  
“We’ll take her back to bed and then - ”  
“Then what, Brother? She heard us!” Lucille hollered and yanked her arm away.  
Pamela wheeled her chair backwards. She knew she was only biding time. She could feel herself become dizzy from the adrenaline rush while her coughs were rapid and short. She couldn’t breath.  
“Thomas…I…love…you.” She wheezed.  
Then it all happened so fast. Lucille darted down the hallway, her eyes black with rage.  
“Lucille! Stop this!” Thomas screamed but he made no attempt to move. He was just as afraid of his sister as Pamela was.

With an inhuman growl, Lucille kicked the wheelchair out from beneath Pamela, making her fall with a cry.  
“Lucille!” Thomas made another desperate shout down the hallway as he cowered against the wall.

Pamela pushed her body around on the floor, trying to crawl away from Lucille’s grasp. Her sister-in-law’s figure stood over her, watching her crawl away. She caught a hint of a sadistic smirk twitching at the corner of Lucille’s pink lips. She took sick delight in observing Thomas’ bride squirming in pain, sweat and frustration to get away, to grasp at a chance to live.

“Go to him.” She coaxed. “He won’t help you. No one can help you now.”  
“Thomas…” Pamela’s voice rasped as she reached out to him. Her heart broke at the sight of him standing still, unwilling to help her.

She felt Lucille’s thin fingers slide around her throat and squeeze. The fragile woman tried to pull them away, but it was of no use. Pamela watched as her husband pressed himself into the soiled wallpaper, his eyes squeezed shut, his lower trembled. He looked so small and childlike.

“Pamela, I’m sorry.” His voice trembled and the light from the window caught the tears splashing on his cheek. A white light flashed before her eyes. An enveloping warmth seemed to lift her out of her body as she watched herself sink to the floor, limp and lifeless.

“Oh sister, what have you done?” Thomas opened his eyes and knelt before Pamela’s body.

Fury built inside her as she watched them carry her body to the elevator. Something inside her told Pamela not to watch, that this was no longer her concern. She could turn away. She could turn towards the light and leave everything behind. But Pamela knew she couldn’t.

They would do this again to another poor unsuspecting woman. She was determined to warn them - it was up to them whether or not they listened. She knew she was condemning herself to this horrid place but she couldn’t let another person meet the same fate.

As her body sunk into the red clay pits below Allerdale Hall, Pamela’s spirit ascended and drifted back to the hallway. It nestled itself in between the rotting floorboards and waited for the Sharpe’s next unsuspecting victim.

 

 


End file.
